Текст книги "Shattered Secrets"

Автор книги: Karen Harper

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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

2

The badge on the man’s jacket glinted silver in the outside floodlight as he approached the back door and knocked. The sound rattled Tess. But she stepped forward to unlock it, then opened only the inside door so the glass storm door was still fastened between them.

“Sheriff Gabe McCord, Tess. Just wanted to welcome you back,” he said in a loud, deep voice that carried well over the rain and through the glass barrier between them. His big-brimmed hat shadowed his face, and his jacket was slick with rain.

She knew she should ask him in. But she had the feeling that if she opened the door, she’d be opening up so much more. No, she had to be sensible, stay sane. This was the here and now, not two decades ago. She unlatched and opened the storm door.

“I appreciate that,” she told him, relieved her voice sounded steady. “Do you want to step in?”

“Thanks. Just for a sec. Grace mentioned you’d be here today. Sorry to lose them as neighbors,” he said, sweeping his hat off his head as he entered the kitchen, making it seem so much smaller. “I see you’ve got a sign up in the front yard already.”

“Yes, I brought it with me. I put it up when Gracie and I were unloading my car.”

She took two steps back. Gabriel McCord was so much taller and sturdier than the skinny kid she remembered. Unlike most people of Appalachian descent, Gabe was black-haired, although he was blue-eyed. She could see the young boy in his features but barely. He seemed all hard lines and tense angles—the slash of his dark eyebrows; the sharp slant of his shadowed, clean-shaven cheekbones, his square chin with a scar, his broad nose, even his solidly built body. His hands, which held his hat, were big with blunt fingers. He had a deep, commanding voice that, even when he spoke quietly, reverberated through her.

She tried not to stare, to say something light and polite. As he quickly assessed her, she felt frozen, yet she turned hot under his steady, probing gaze. He probably saw her as exhibit number one, the girl who came back alive and yet could remember nothing of her ordeal.

“I heard you’d be fixing to sell this place,” he said.

“Yes, I really need to. I need the money to open a day care center for preschoolers back in Michigan. That’s home now.”

“A day care center sounds great. That’s something folks around here could use, both those whose kids need a head start, besides what the government provides, and the Lake Azure folks.”

“They’re not all retirees in that community?”

“There are some well-to-do younger people who want to escape city stress, get back to nature, raise their kids away from crime and all that, though we have our share. Well, besides what happened to you, I mean. Meth labs, marijuana plots up in the hills, domestic disputes, drunks busting things up or shooting off guns. Especially this time of year, we get outsiders trespassing on the grounds of the old mental health asylum, vandalizing and worse. But I didn’t mean to unload on you. I just wanted to say if you need anything while you’re here, I’m just across the cornfield, at least at night. Don’t hesitate to call the station or my phone next door. Grace said she’d leave the numbers for you on the fridge.”

“Yes. Yes, she did,” Tess said, glancing at the piece of paper under the magnet that advertised Gabe McCoy for Sheriff. “Thank you,” she added. “So, how is your mother? Gracie said your father died.”

“Yeah, at age seventy-two. A heart attack, though they had some good years living in Florida after they left here. She’s still there. Sorry to hear your mother passed away so young.”

“She had a hard life, working to take care of her three girls—me especially, after everything. That’s why she left this house to me. Kate and Char have more...high-powered careers than I do. Kate’s a university professor in anthropology, and Char’s a social worker. They both travel a lot, so I’m here on my own for this besides the fact that it’s my house now.” She hesitated. “Listen, Gabe,” she continued, unclasping her hands, which she didn’t realize she was gripping so hard. “I’m sure you know a lot of people here and I don’t. Will you let me know if you can think of anyone who might want to buy an old house to fix up?”

“Sure. If you don’t mind people knowing you’re back, I can ask around, have them contact you. If you put up any signs around town, better give your phone number, but maybe not your name, not say you’ll be here for a while.”

She could tell he’d tried to word that carefully, but it scared her. Actually she’d planned her for-sale posters that way. But was he thinking that since her abductor had never been found and she was an eyewitness—maybe people didn’t believe she couldn’t recall a thing about her eight months away. Was she still in danger?

“Thanks,” she repeated. “I’ll remember that.”

He said goodbye, put his hat back on and went out into the rain. As she locked both doors behind him, she recalled that her mother had said some people blamed Gabe for not watching her better that day. There were whispers that her being taken was his fault, that he’d disobeyed orders to keep an eye on them. Tess had never told anyone but the truth was she was the one who had disobeyed him that dreadful day.

“Get back here, you crazy tomboy!” he’d shouted at her when she stuck out her tongue and darted back into the cornfield where she was hiding from him. She’d always liked Gabe, liked to get attention from him.

And with that mere thought, images came flying back at her. Someone was in the next row of corn, pushing stalks away, bumping the heavy ears. It must be Gabe. A terrible face jumped at her—hit her. Had she smacked into a scarecrow? She turned to run, but a hard hand covered her mouth. Was the scarecrow alive?

The thing dragged her away from her friends’ voices. She fought, went to her knees with the thing on top of her, pressing her down between two rows of stalks.

She tasted soil from the field, spit out straw. Something sharp stuck her in the side of her neck. It hurt more than a bee sting. Hard hands on her, pulling her up. She couldn’t see. Something was shoved into her mouth, something pulled over her head. She wanted Mom. She wanted Dad! Dad loved her, his terrific, terrible Teresa. But there was no Mom, no Dad, no Gabe.

Reality struck her. No Gabe...of course there was no Gabe. He’d just left and she stood in the kitchen of her family’s old house.

Shaking, heaving a huge sigh, she checked and relocked both doors and leaned against the kitchen counter until her heart stopped thudding. She shoved the waking nightmare away...had to get back to the here and now. She was going to put her things away but have a glass of wine before she washed up for bed. She’d take a shower in the morning when it was light. And pray she could go to sleep in this house at all.

* * *

The rain on the roof—and the fear of another nightmare—kept Tess awake most of the night. She felt revved up from seeing Gabe after all these years. She couldn’t help wondering if he became sheriff just to follow in his father’s footsteps or because of guilt that she was abducted when he was watching her.

Gracie told her that another child, Jill Stillwell, had been taken about ten years ago from a tent where she was sleeping next to her brother in her backyard, no less. Could it be the same kidnapper who snatched me? Tess thought about what had happened. Gracie said there was a cornfield behind the house where the escape must have been made. Not until the next morning, when the boy woke up and found his sister hadn’t gone inside to sleep, was she discovered missing. Another innocent young boy like Gabe, left to feel guilty, maybe even more so, since Jill Stillwell had never been found.

Tess also tossed and turned and agonized over the fact that Gabe joined the army and went to war straight out of high school. She could sympathize with him wanting to get out of Cold Creek. But maybe he went to escape the war going on inside him.

A glass of wine before bed usually helped her to sleep, but her thoughts kept racing. She could tell Gabe had wanted to make her feel comfortable, yet she felt unsafe with him. She admitted to herself the reason was that he kind of got to her. He was really sexy and she hadn’t been expecting that. With her thoughts on Gabe she finally fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * *

Tess had just finished a late breakfast of cereal, banana, juice and coffee when another surprise visitor showed up, this time at her front door. She didn’t recognize the overweight woman at first because she’d changed so much, but the bright blue lettering on the side of her white van tipped Tess off. Thompson Veterinary and Pet Cemetery, Crown Crest Lane. Keep Your Beloved Pet For Life.

About half a mile beyond the back cornfield was a big house, veterinary office and pet cemetery owned by longtime bachelor Dane Thompson. Grace had told Tess that Dane’s widowed sister, Marva, who had lived in the area for years, had moved in with him not long ago. When Tess and her family left town, Marva Thompson Green had been trim and spry, very attractive. She’d been married to a small-field farmer. Tess remembered that Marva had cared for her and her sisters while her mother looked for a job after her father deserted them.

“Remember me, Teresa?” Marva called through the storm door when Tess opened the wooden one.

With a smile, she extended a coffee cake with pecans and brown-sugar glaze. It touched Tess to realize Cold Creek hospitality still ruled here. Yet she hesitated a moment before opening the storm door. Dane Thompson had been under suspicion off and on for her kidnapping. Obviously, nothing had come of the gossip about him.

“Hello, Mrs. Green,” Tess said as she opened the storm door. “How kind of you. Can you step in?”

“Why, surely will, for a spell. You’re looking pretty, though you could put a little weight on. All three of you Lockwood girls were pretty, you especially. Now that you’re all grown up, you call me Marva. I heard you’d be back soon from your cousin Lee. He did some work for us—built a new fence around the cemetery since kids are always messing with things there, and Halloween’s not far off. It’s usually not us they bother but the old mental health asylum over on West Hill Road. Sitting derelict, you know, so the kids from far and wide break in there and scare each other, leave graffiti, you know what I mean, Teresa.”

“I go by Tess now. But how is Dr. Thompson?” Tess inquired as she put the coffee cake on the only table Grace had left in the living room. She gestured Marva toward the two rocking chairs, but the white-haired, very tan-looking woman just shook her head and plunged on.

“Busy like never before with the Lake Azure area getting so built up. Dane’s been able to afford real upgrades in the cemetery. Why, you should see it. Using digital technology, Dane can offer having QR codes implanted on the tombstones. You know, those little black-and-white grids that can speak to smart phones. Presto! A person can see that pet buried there romping, playing like when alive, and can link to family Facebook websites too. Oh, I’m sure you know more about all that modern stuff than I do.”

“Actually my preschool students knew more than I did about all that,” Tess told her, forcing a smile. “It’s amazing all the things technology can do.”

“Well, it’s a lot better than Dane’s taxidermist friend just stuffing dead dogs, if you ask me,” Marva said with a little sniff. She brushed at the sleeves of her denim jacket as if there was dog hair there. “But,” she went on, “I have to get the van back to Dane. He makes house calls at Lake Azure now, you see. I run the tanning parlor—two shops beyond the English pub uptown. You’ll love their fish-and-chips,” Marva added as she headed for the door. “The town has probably changed from what you recall—if you do remember, I mean, because you left so young. And good luck selling your house and land, because my old place and the barn are still for sale. I don’t know what I’d do if Dane didn’t pay the taxes on it for me.”

The state of property sales in the area depressed Tess, but she smiled and thanked Marva again for the coffee cake. It surprised her there was a tanning parlor in Cold Creek. She knew they were dangerous. And it was being run by Marva, the former farmer’s wife. No way was this the Cold Creek Tess remembered. If the Lake Azure area folks had money to invest in having their dead pets stare at them from tombstones, maybe someone there would like to buy an old house, closer to town than Marva’s, to fix up and flip or for an investment. Instead of avoiding the new area of town, Tess decided she’d better put some of the posters she’d had made over by Lake Azure too.

She waved as Marva drove off in the new-looking van. If only she could have kept her mother for life and not have to come back here to sell this place and face her fears alone.

* * *

Standing outside a run-down, old barn someone had made into a makeshift meth lab before clearing out, Gabe put through a call on his police radio to Jace Miller, his only deputy. There were a few places in the hills that even satellite communications didn’t work, like odd no-man spots around here. The best sites were near the Lake Azure phone towers the residents had insisted be put in. Even some smart phones were too dumb to trust in these hills, but his call went through.

He’d figured that at least two people had been sleeping here, by the piles of smashed leaves on the floor of the barn. He’d found a scrap of old blanket once at another site and had sent it to a lab for fiber and DNA testing, but they’d found nothing except dog hairs, and he’d got nothing out of it but a four-month wait and a big bill.

“Jace, the place was another in-the-weeds meth lab,” he said into his mouthpiece mounted on his shoulder. “Looks like a mom-and-pop setup, but they’ve been cooking the stuff up here for sure. Same old story. They managed to keep ahead of us and cleared out, like they knew their time was up. Or someone warned them, but who? Over.”

“Copy that. If it’s that fly-by-night bunch we’ve been after, they’re probably already using another deserted barn or old hunting cabin somewhere. You want me to call our cleanup contact to get rid of the toxic stuff? Over.”

“For sure. Tell them it’s the usual. Drain cleaner, rock salt spilled, jugs and bottles. At least there’s no sign that anyone’s been held here against their—her—will.”

“Gabe, you can’t be on the old kidnap cases day and night forever.”

“The hell I can’t. Something’s going to turn up when we’re looking at something else, I know it is. Speaking of which, I’m going back to the commune to insist on getting a look at those girls to see if anyone matches the photo Marian Bell gave me. Over.”

“She’ll have you lifting fingerprints off those girls in the Hear Ye sect next. She’s obsessed when we both know her ex took that kid.”

“We theorize he did. Any and every lead.”

“And you’ll probably drive by your place again today to see if vic number one’s okay too, won’t you? Teresa, the one you were almost an eyewitness to her being taken.”

“She goes by Tess now, and you roll out the welcome mat for her if she drops by or calls in. Who knows what she’ll be able to remember now that she’s back here? Worse, who knows who she’ll stir up from fear she will remember something?”

* * *

Tess took the stack of eight-by-eleven-inch posters she’d made at home from the office supply store and went uptown. She knew a few spots to post them in what she was now thinking of as “Old Town,” but she’d like to venture into some of the newer places too. The Lake Azure people no doubt had more money.

Even before Gabe suggested it, she’d decided to keep her name out of this, though some folks would recognize the place being sold as the Lockwood house. The poster only gave information about the house and her cell phone number. She’d included the color reproduction of an old picture of the place she’d found in Mom’s photo album. Tess liked the picture because it was taken in the early summer before the corn grew thick and tall. It looked more spacious—almost safe.

She stopped for gas and they let her put a poster on the wall behind the cash register. The guy in charge tried to flirt with her, but she stayed all business. Without asking, she posted one on the crowded bulletin board at the Kwik Shop. She remembered standing there with her mother—or was it with Kate or Char?—reading signs about used bikes and a mini trampoline for sale. How they’d wanted any kind of trampoline.

Relieved no one had recognized her as people went in and out pushing grocery carts, she walked a few doors down into the small, storefront library both Mom and Char had loved, though they all got books there. To her surprise, Etta Falls, one of the community pillars, was still behind the small checkout desk. Miss Etta came from the pioneer family in the area, once successful farmers who had money, compared to most around here. Miss Etta was obviously surprised to see her too, because she jumped right up, whipped off her reading glasses so they dangled by a cord and clapped her hands over her mouth for a second.

“Well, I’ll be! Is it Teresa Lockwood? I heard your mother died and wondered if you girls might come back to sell the house.”

“I’m sure you remember Kate and Charlene more than you do me, Miss Etta. They were older and more avid readers.”

“Yes, my dear,” she said, hurrying around the counter, “but you were the one we were all pulling for, praying for.” Still as thin and energetic as ever, she put her strong hands on Tess’s shoulders and, stiff-armed, seemed to examine her. “You look just fine, Teresa. You all live in Michigan, so I hear.”

“After Mother’s death, it’s just me. Kate and Char have careers that call for travel.” Then she blurted out a big lie: “I don’t think about the past, only the future.”

“So good to hear. But, you know, it’s hard to forget some things.... Now, I’ll bet I could pull a few books for you to give you strength, cheer you up. I tried to give your kin Grace and Lee Lockwood self-help books on brainwashing and the like, but they are convinced that man who leads their group has all the answers—and I’m not even sure anyone in the compound even knows the questions,” she added with the hint of a smile as she released Tess’s shoulders.

Tess had forgotten how low-pitched the woman’s voice was, so perfect for a lifelong librarian. She remembered how Miss Etta always tried to help everyone by suggesting books that would fit their interests or problems. In a way, it was nice that, just like Old Town, the woman—she was probably at least sixty-five now—hadn’t changed much. Yet this close up, Tess could see her brown hair was streaked with gray, and tiny wrinkles like spiderwebs perched at the corners of her eyes and mouth.

“Do you still take the bookmobile out?” Tess asked. “We all loved to see it coming when the weather was bad or we didn’t have money for extra gas after Dad left.”

“I take it out for several hours when things are slow here. It’s still a one-woman show, because the Lake Azure party house has book clubs galore run by their social director, and so many of them prefer to order their books out of the air—you know, online for digital readers,” she said with a sniff and a roll of her eyes.

“And your mother?”

Miss Etta’s head jerked in surprise. “You remember my mother? But she’s been a recluse for years, still is.”

“I only remember about her, that you take good care of her and that you’re from the Falls family that was the first to settle in this area.”

“Yes, that’s right. Most folks think this county is named for the waterfalls over by the quarry, but it was for my ancestors. My great-great-great-grandfather Elias Falls was the Daniel Boone of this area. As for my mother, she’s doing as well as could be expected. You never met her, did you?”

“I don’t think so. Unless I was really young then. Oh, I came in to ask if I could post a for-sale sign about my house. And I go by Tess now, not Teresa. My mother didn’t like it, but when I hit high school, she let me change it just to shut me up.”

“And, no doubt,” Miss Etta said, “because she loved you dearly, especially once she got you back.”

With a firm nod, Miss Etta took the poster and used four thumbtacks to align it perfectly with other announcements on the neatly kept bulletin board with signs recommending books of all kinds.

Sometimes Tess wished she was as book smart as her mother and sisters, especially Kate. Mostly, Tess liked to read out loud to little kids, not spend her time on adult books about crime and suspense, thrillers, not even family sagas or passionate love stories—trouble, trouble, trouble. Children’s books were so comforting, unless they were by Maurice Sendak, with all those grotesque, fanged night monsters, but she refused to read those to her kids.

Suddenly there was a strange roaring in her ears. She was being dragged through the corn, then carried away from her house but closer to the noise. Dizzy, crazy, couldn’t think, trying to stay awake because the scarecrow was going to feed her to the other, bigger monster. She knew it was in the field, big and green with a voice like the waterfall. It would chop her to pieces and eat her up like corn, but she was too scared to cry....

“Welcome home,” Miss Etta said as Tess fought to thrust away the waking nightmare. The librarian brushed her hands together after hanging the poster and hurried to her desk to pump hand sanitizer on her hands from a big plastic bottle. Tess walked toward the front door and managed to wave to Miss Etta, who called out after her, “Remember, my dear, I’d be happy to give you a temporary library card if you aren’t staying long.”

On the sidewalk, Tess stopped to steady herself and breathe in the crisp autumn air. She’d been afraid Cold Creek would magnify her day or night bad dreams. If only she could get the broken, terrifying memories out, maybe they’d all go away! Meanwhile, she knew she had to stay busy, had to stay on task.

She decided to hit the barbershop and Hair Port beauty salon to leave posters. Then she’d visit the new part of town, even try the firehouse and police station, maybe drive out to Lake Azure just to look around. She liked the idea of some things being changed or new here, not like the parts of town that looked the same way as the year, the month, the very day she was taken. Tomorrow—the anniversary of her kidnapping—would be a tough day.